


My King, My Queen, and Everything In Between

by alacarton



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8275594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alacarton/pseuds/alacarton
Summary: | 100 Royai Prompts | Posted on Tumblr as ohsnapsnapsparkspark |





	1. Index & Introduction

_(The following prompts can originally be found on p0ck3tf0x's tumblr[HERE](http://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you))_  
  
_(All chapters written are **bolded)**_

 

1\. “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.”

2\. “It reminded me of you.”

3\. “No, no, it’s my treat.”

4\. “Come here. Let me fix it.”

5\. “I’ll walk you home.”

6\. “Have a good day at work.”

7\. “I dreamt about you last night.”

8\. “Take my seat.”

9\. “I saved a piece for you.”

10\. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

11\. “You can have half.”

12\. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

13\. “Sorry I’m late.”

14\. “Can I have this dance?”

15\. “I made your favourite.”

**16\. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”**

17\. “Watch your step.”

18\. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

19\. “Can I hold your hand?”

20\. “You can borrow mine.”

21\. “You might like this.”

22\. “It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

23\. “I’ll wait.”

24\. “Just because.”

25\. “Look both ways.”

26\. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

27\. “Try some.”

28\. “Drive safely.”

29\. “Well, what do you want to do?”

**30\. “One more chapter.”**

31\. “Don’t worry about me.”

32\. “It looks good on you.”

33\. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

34\. “That’s okay, I bought two.”

35\. “After you.”

36\. “We’ll figure it out.”

37\. “Can I kiss you?”

38\. “I like your laugh.”

**39\. “Don’t cry.”**

40\. “I made this for you.”

41\. “Go back to sleep.”

42\. “Is this okay?”

43\. “I picked these for you.”

44\. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

45\. “What do you want to watch?”

46\. “You can go first.”

**47\. “Did you get my letter?”**

48\. “I’ll do it for you.”

49\. “Call me when you get home.

50\. “I think you’re beautiful.”

51\. “Are you sure?”

52\. “Have fun.”

53\. “Sit down, I’ll get it.”

54\. “I made reservations.”

55\. “I don’t mind.”

56\. “It brings out your eyes.”

57\. "There is enough room for both of us.”

58\. “You don’t have to say anything.”

59\. “Wow.”

60\. “Happy birthday.”

61\. “I’ll pick it up after work.”

62\. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

63\. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

64\. “It’s two sugars, right?”

65\. “I’ll help you study.”

66\. "Stay over.”

67\. “I did the dishes.”

68\. “You didn’t have to ask.”

69\. “I bought you a ticket.”

70\. “You’re warm.”

71\. “No reason.”

72\. “I’ll meet you halfway.”

73\. “Take mine.”

74\. “We can share.”

75\. “I was just thinking about you.”

76\. “I want you to have this.”

77\. “Call me if you need anything.”

78\. “Do you want to come too?”

79\. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

80\. “Is your seatbelt on?”

81\. “Sweet dreams.”

82\. “I was in the neighbourhood.”

83\. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

84\. “The key is under the mat.”

85\. “It doesn’t bother me.”

86\. “You’re important too.”

87\. “I saved you a seat.”

88\. “I’ll see you later.”

89\. “I noticed.”

90\. “You can tell me anything.”

91\. “I hope you like it.”

92\. “I want you to be happy.”

93\. “I believe in you.”

94\. “You can do it.”

95\. “Good luck.”

96\. “I brought you an umbrella.”

97\. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

98\. “Take a deep breath.”

99\. “Be careful.”

And…

100\. “I love you.”


	2. #39 - Don't Cry

It was such a beautiful night that she couldn’t help but take a walk. Not too far, the nurse had warned her; _she was still recovering,_ and the stinging wound on her neck kept her gentle pace in check. Her room mate was asleep when she had left, or so he appeared anyway. For all his chipper nature around the other soldiers, he was sullenly silent in the down times. She knew this darkness was slowly driving him insane, and the inability to fix it, to fix _him_ , was insufferable. She needed fresh air, needed a reminder that there was life outside this awful hospital room, a future for both of them, not just the four grey walls she faced each day.

On her return to the ward, she saw a familiar figure departing their room, and her heart lurched. _Dr Marcoh._ She picked up the pace, calling his name, receiving only a quick glance back before he hurried down the corridor and she caught enough to see stray tears on his face, his wrinkled face crumpled in anguish. Her stomach dropped, and a panic came over her.  _Roy_. Tripping over her own feet, she stumbled back to their room, her abrupt entrance making Roy jump, and she could see his hand twist into that familiar snap, ready to defend against an unknown intruder.   
  
“ It’s… only me.”

And he relaxed at the sound of her voice, shoulders slumping once more, saying nothing. Sat looking pitiful on his bed _, eyes still closed._ Her mind was reeling; what the hell was going on? Marcoh had promised to heal him, to fix this, to give her back the Roy she so desperately craved and missed. The ambitious Roy, the head strong Roy, the fearless, selfless, leading Roy. Had he failed? Had it been impossible?

She felt nausea wash over her, carefully approaching the edge of his bed, a hand gripping the rail. What could she say? The look on his face has not changed, his demeanour still as sobering and glum, perhaps even more than usual, and it _terrified_ her.

“ How are you, Lieutenant?” His voice startled her, and she gulped, willing the fear out of her voice as she spoke.  
  
“I…I am fine, sir. I was…taking a walk outside, some fresh air before sunset.”  
  
“Ah.” There was a beat of a pause, before he spoke again. “ And your wound? Is it healing?”  
  
“It is healing as best as they can expect, sir. They do not think I will need any further treatment for it.”

“That is good to know, that I had not burdened your further with my selfishness.” She could see the relief visibly act on him, the tense hold of his shoulders dropping slightly, and she inwardly cursed herself for not having something better to say. He would not believe that this was not his fault, that her injuries had not been some doing of his, whether direct or not.   
  
“Lieutenant…” His voice was quiet, bouncing in the small room. “Could you…come here for a moment?” He shuffled backwards on the bed, patting the now empty spot in front of him. She eyed him warily, before granting his request and gently climbing onto his cot, curling her legs under her as she sat in front of him. “ Close your eyes, and hold out your hands.” The request made her freeze, his own hands laid before her on the bed, and he sensed her hesitancy. “ Your father…he once said that you can only build your future with your own hands…humour me.”

Oh, his tone hurt her heart, and so, she did as he asked. Softly clasping his hands in hers, she squeezed her eyes shut, his large hands curling around her petite ones, warm as ever and he pulled her closer. There was something deeply intimate about the moment, and he was so close, close enough to feel the ghost of his breath on her. Slowly, he lifted her hands, and placed them against his face, and she curled them around the familiar features with ease. Her finger traced the sharp edge of his top lip, her thumb the very beginnings of the bristles of stubble along his jaw, and absentmindedly, she smiled at the familiarity, the simple intimacy of her actions.   
  
“You’re so beautiful when you smile, you know.”

His words stopped her, her mind screaming, and her eyes shot open. The clouded grey eyes she had grown accustomed to were once more jet black, staring at her from only inches away. He looked as though he had witnessed a miracle, and it took her only a moment to see him scan her face, his composure quickly slipping, his hands trembling over hers.   
  
“ Sir, your eyes…”

He gave her a sad, guilty smile, a shadow of his usual boyish grin, making no attempt to combat the tears now slipping past those long, dark lashes of his, and down his cheeks, daring to defy his usually stoic demeanour. “ Dr Marcoh, he… he kept his promise. He said it had worked…But I wanted…” He bit the very corner of his lip, his last attempt at controlling his cracking voice, a hand reaching out to cup her cheek. “ I wanted you to be the first thing these new eyes of mine saw.”

“ You…” It was too much. It had hurt too much to face his dull, unseeing eyes, but she had not anticipated just how much more it would hurt seeing what she had missed the most. She thought she would _scream_ with the feeling building within her. “You are an i-idiot, Roy Mus…Mus…M…”

And she could manage no more. The events of the last weeks, the terror, the pain, the _grief_ , ran riot and she felt the sobs wrack her, anguish choking itself from her in relief. She grabbed him as though he could slip through her fingers at any moment, her hands clinging to his face, and their lips crashed together in a fierce kiss, his arms twisting around her firmly in response, and she could no longer tell if it was his or her own tears that soaked her cheeks. Roy’s back met the pillows and they twisted to fit their bodies closer, lips barely parting before finding one another once more, her free hand twisting in his dark hair, hearing him draw quick breaths between his own sobs.

Both were unsure just how long they had stayed that way, blissfully enjoying each other, but when they parted, both breathless, flustered, their eyes met once more. Red, tear stained but _oh_ so familiar. She buried her head against him, breathing in the very smell of him, and she felt a kiss pressed to the top of her head, her sobs continuing as he did so. Pulling the thin hospital blankets around them, he clung to her smaller frame, thumb gently tracing small circles in her back, and his lips found her ear, gently whispering love, comfort, anything that would stop the tears from coming. But her eyes would find him, those _beautiful_ golden eyes of her that had haunted his every dark moment, and he found only love, with the same mixture of pain and relief as his own had for her. His fingers traced her every outline, before curling in the soft strands of her hair, planting a kiss to the middle of her forehead as he did.

“ Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay now.”   
  
He was unsure just for who it was meant, but both chests sighed heavily with relief none the less.


	3. #30 - One More Chapter

Riza had left the office over 2 hours after the rest of the team, and yet, he was still sat at his desk, pouring over paper after paper when she closed the door. He had been uncommunicable all afternoon, his mind wandering far away from the present, and pen furiously scribbling in the small pocket diary he kept. She would have been worried had it not been for the fierce scowl on his face; a scowl of concentration. That was something she had learnt many years ago, after interrupting as he flicked through the large report laid before him earlier in the day, receiving that same determined look.

_“One more chapter.”_

And it took her back. To the eager boy who had appeared at her home, satchel tucked under one arm, hair short and neat, with a smile a mile wide. To dark nights, sat together in the study of her childhood home, quietly reading side by side in the dim glow of the fireplace in the comfortable silence. To the dark rings under his eyes, constant yawning and midday naps that her father’s tutelage pressured him into, and the same mile-wide smile she received on presenting him with a mug of hot chocolate for his efforts. To tip-toeing down the corridor to his room, seeing the light under the door and chastising him for being awake so late, receiving only a boyish grin and a book thrust under her nose of whatever he had been reading now.

_One more chapter._

That image jarred so harshly with the arrogant, lazy, womanising Colonel that had become the stuff of gossip around the barracks, with the dumb glances and feigned ignorance. She knew he had never truly stopped being that lovable bookworm from her childhood, despite what Ishval and the military may have done to him. She knew he spent his still sleepless nights with a book in hand, about the stash of his favourites under his bed, and the stacks of notes tucked away in his night stand.

And so, when she was unable to sleep, and the nagging voice in her head had her return to the office that night, she was not surprised to find him still there, despite the dark that had now fallen, the small desk lamp gloomily lighting the office. Still desperately scouring the books, the titles piling book upon book at his side, completely lost in the pages in front of him.

_The Medical Encyclopaedia, Edition 20._

_Disorders of the Musculoskeletal System_

_Healing the Body; Paraplegia and the Immobile Body_

_Medical Alchemy: The Art of Healing_

Of course it made sense that he would have buried himself into this particularly talent right now. She watched him, completely unaware of her presence, before gently clearing her throat. He glanced up, blinking in confusion, before she spoke. 

“ Sir. It is 1am. Shouldn’t you be at home? You are still recovering.”

And his face melted into a subdued, sad version that familiar boyish grin, her insistence disappearing with it.

“ One more chapter.”


	4. #16 - It’s Okay, I Couldn’t Sleep Anyway

She had always hated thunderstorms. Even as a child, the bright forks that lit the high ceilings of the manor had terrified her. Her father had always scolded her for being afraid.

And that fear had become amplified after Ishval, after which every flash of lightning was a new attack, and every ripple of thunder meant death and destruction all over again. She had awoken in a blind panic more than once, the storm outside sending her into overdrive, and it had only been with the reassuring hand on her back, and the warm arms around her, that she had brought herself home from the battlefield in her mind.

 _But Roy had to be away._ He was miles from home, in a strange hotel room, preparing for a conference with the generals of the West. The life of the leader of a country the size of Amestris. In the meantime, she was alone in their large bed, the dark room strangely empty.

She could not afford be scared; _she was needed._ And Riza Hawkeye never failed those in her life who needed her the most.

And not long after the rain had started to pelt the windows, and the thunder had begun it’s terrible symphony, she was called into action. She heard the footsteps darting along the wooden floor of the hallway, and her visitor had burst through the bedroom door, quivering and crying, his sobs of ‘ _mama_ ’ echoing throughout the room

Gathering him tightly in her arms, she hushed him, soothing him, gentle hands running through his dark hair, and gradually, aside from the odd sniff, he had calmed, tear stained cheeks settling against her breast. She lost track of how long she laid with him, rocking him peacefully, and she wondered just who her soft lullabies calmed more as she sang. But it had worked, and the shift in his breathing a short time later told her he was sleeping once more, a small hand clinging to her night dress, round cheeks flushed with the drama of the night.

But she could still not help the involuntary jump as the thunder continued outside, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against the small boy’s head, breathing him in with a shaky sigh. He smelt of her, of Roy, of milk before bedtime, of gentle shampoo and crisp fresh pyjamas, of _home. This was home._

The shrill ring of the telephone caught her by surprise, and she glanced at the clock. 2am. Her breathing slowed, and her lips twisted into a smile as she reached for the receiver; he was as predictable as he had always been.

“ _Hey._ ”

The very sound of his voice brought her instant warmth, and she could not help but smile. Uncanny timing, as ever.

“Good evening, Mister Mustang.” Old habits died hard.

“ _Is everything alright? It’s a bad storm tonight._ ” Of course he knew, he always knew. With the first clap of thunder, they would have been on his wonderful, troubled mind.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, instead of worrying about us?” It was a statement, not a question, and he knew that. The soft chuckle from the other end of the phone brought a smile to her own lips.

“ _Sorry.”_ She heard the rustle of sheets as he turned, obviously settling back into bed. _“I just needed to hear your voice._ ” And her heart leapt as she pictured him, his own tortured dreams disturbed by the rolling thunder outside, in a strange room far away from home, so very alone. He hated it perhaps even more than she did; after all, thunder did have the uncanny ability to sound so very like an explosion. And the memories brought on the panic, the fear of having her and now their son snatched from him all too real in the darkness, the urge to protect them insatiable and cruelly impossible from so very far away. _He would have been up all night._  
  
He needed her right now.

“It’s okay.” She shifted in bed, tucking the phone against her shoulder as she adjusted the pillows with her free hand, balancing Maes with the other, before settling back into them with a content sigh. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

 

  
(@theysangastheyslew took this little fic of mine, and created an incredible piece of art that I still find amazing. You can see it [here](http://theysangastheyslew.tumblr.com/post/151611079164/i-couldnt-sleep-anyway)!)


	5. #47 - Did You Get My Letter?

The desert air was stale, the smell of ash and _death_ whispering a hello. She stood, lit only by the flickering candle she had brought, the dingy white coat of her uniform cloaking her small frame. _Had she even grown in the years they had been apart?_

They had agreed to meet here, in this abandoned, burnt out shack, far away from prying ears and suspicious eyes.

“Did you get my letter?”

He could not reply to her, and his eyes could not meet her gaze. The memory of that letter still ached in his head. The joy at the familiar handwriting, the gentle warmth that she had thought of him far out here in this godforsaken desert, which quickly turned to cold guilt and shame at her questioning. _I hear you are no longer Mister Mustang, but now the military’s finest weapon, the feared Flame Alchemist._

He could not admit to the shame and guilt he had cried, the disgust that filled him as he had read her words. _He was a failure after all._

“Yes, I did.”

Her arms folded expectantly; she wanted a reason for his silence.

“The war has kept me busy.” It was not a lie, per se.

“Was that all I was, Major? A means to an end? Something fleeting, some replaceable, disposable once it has served it’s sinful purpose to aid you in your march for power? Now, I am nothing, not even an afterthought as you flaunt these hellish gloves of yours, as death keeps you busy?”

One thousand excuses filled his mind, but none seemed to do any justice to her. There was no excuse. “I…I cannot stand it here. I do not know who I am anymore. All of this is not…not what I wanted.”

“And yet, here you are.” There was no mercy in her voice, and her furious eyes demanded he look at her. “Were you expecting pity from me, Major?”

Her voice was like ice, and he felt the sting of her lashing. He was numb, like watching from afar, his mind frozen, words slipping from his mouth that he could not understand; _you should not be here, you are innocent, you are too good for this._

“You.” She pointed a shaking finger, like the barrel of a gun aimed at his heart, her distraught face coming into sharp focus. “You are the _last_ person to walk this Earth who should _dare_ talk of innocence and morality to me. A monster like you, twisting what was meant to be a beautiful thing, something you _promised_ me would change this world for the better. What has your beloved Flame Alchemy bought to the world, Major? _Cold blooded murder._ ”

He stared at her, eyes fixed to her furious, _beautiful_ glare, the words she had said ringing in his ears. _Monster._ He couldn’t breathe, the weight of her judgement crushing him.

“You _used_ me. All for your own selfish power struggle. I trusted you, bore myself to you. And you used me, lied to me. Do I mean nothing, _Mister Mustang?_ ”

He wanted to weep, desperation beginning to kick in. _No, no, no. Not you. Never you._ His heart screamed at him to hold her, to apologise until his throat was raw, to find some goddamned way to take that horrendous pain, and furious rage, from her gentle face.

“Get out.”

It was an order, with no room for objection. He wanted to sob to her, to beg and plead for even a minute of compassion, even pity, to show her that beneath this awful man lay the quiet, kind boy he had once been, and she had once known. _I’ve missed you. Please leave, run, be safe. You are beautiful, even here. I am so sorry._

_I love you._

“You heard me, _Major_.”

The demand was sharper, and his breath hitched. _She really wanted him gone._

“If you will not leave, I will scream.”

Oh, his heart ached at the distrust in her eyes, laced with fear. He had grown into something she could no longer recognise, and something that caused her pain. His head bowed, he back away from her, signalling pitiful defeat and acceptance of his sentence, whispering for forgiveness as he did.

“I never meant to do this to you, Riza. The real me, the real-”

“Roy Mustang is gone.” Her voice chilled him to the bone, her jaw set, but her eyes screaming, sobbing,  “He was destroyed out here, amongst this blood soaked sand, the ashes of his dreams scattered like falling stars” She hesistated, and for a second her steel wall trembled, her face falling, voice barely a whisper. “The Roy Mustang I loved, that boy who shared my childhood home…he would never have allowed this.”

The look on her face was etched into the back of his vision as he took off into the chill of the desert night, and he swore that it burnt through to the very last of his blackened soul. He made it past the abandoned village, into the cradle of the dark, soft sand before his knees gave way, hot, angry tears falling, and the scream that left him echoed into the vast abyss of the night.

 


	6. #64 - It’s Two Sugars, Right?

“Thats the last of the boxes!” Winry sat them at the edge of the table with a huff of effort, leaning down to catch her breath, glancing around the now full apartment, boxes piling high. The Captain (nee Lieutenant) certainly lived simply, but that didn’t stop the onslaught of cardboard boxes.

“I appreciate you helping me move. I don’t know how I would have done it myself.” Riza’s head emerged from the kitchen, nodding to her. “Come, I’ve made coffee.”  
   
Winry grinned, straightening up, before a glint of light at the top of the box caught her eye. She hesistated, unwilling to break Riza’s privacy, but what she saw intrigued her beyond politeness, and she seized upon it. “Miss Riza! Is this you?!”

She bounded through to the kitchen, the frame clasped in her hand, Riza’s gaze glancing to it, before laughing lightly, returning to pouring the coffee. “A long time ago, yes.”

“You are very pretty,” Winry glanced over the photograph again, “You look very happy.” She mused for another moment, finger tracing Riza’s companion in the snapshot before she spoke again. “Your _friend_. He looks awfully familiar.”

“Does he?” It was light, gently teasing, and Winry seized upon it.

“Don’t pretend, I know who it is.”

“Do you now?” There was no sincere question in her voice, simply playing along with the charade. “It’s two sugars, right?”

Winry rolled her eyes, leaning on an elbow with a sigh, before pointing a finger. “Well, he looks _exactly_ the same as he does now, so it isn’t exactly a difficult question to answer.” She looked over the photo again, before speaking again, voice soft. “How old were you both?”

“In that photograph?” Riza leant over for the milk jug, humming softly as she thought. “That was just before my 17th birthday. He would have been just about to turn 20.”

The younger girl nodded, raising a curious eyebrow, tongue flicking across her lips. “Were you…”

“He was my father’s apprentice.” She stirred the mugs, looking to Winry, who blinked in surprise, before looking back to the photo, and the two grinning faces in it, before her own mug was passed to her.

“How have you put up with him for so long?”

Riza opened her mouth to defend him, before realising the younger woman’s comment wasn’t _really_ aimed at Roy, but rather an observation in general, and somehow, she knew it it was a genuine question.

“You get used to him.” It wasn’t far from the truth, she would just negate to mention the fact that she had yet to become fully comfortable with  _some_ aspects of it.

“But how do you get used to someone that arrogant and self centered, bragging constantly about dating other women and being a State Alchemist…”

Riza winced internally at her damning critique; _yeah, those aspects has never been easy to stand, however fake._ She mused for a moment, before shrugging as she replied.

“How do you get used to someone like Edward? Loud mouthed, hot headed, overconfident-”

“That isn’t Ed,” Winry cut in almost immediately, huffing slightly, offence written over her face. “That’s just what he wants everyone to believe. He isn’t really confident at all. In private, he’s actually quiet, and thoughtful, he needs reassured and he is sweet and sensitive.” She barely paused for breathe before continuing, voice remaining defensive. “The public Edward isn’t the _real_ Edward Elric. That’s just a facade for everyone else, when you know him like I do, he isn’t like that at all.” She hesistated, frowning softly as she thought. “It _hurts_ to see people think so little of somebody who is actually very gentle, and kind, somebody who constantly puts others before themselves, somebody who is so much more than what they seem.”

She stopped, suddenly aware of her rant, and glanced over to the other woman. She was met not with the judgement or anger that she expected, but with an understanding look and gentle humour in Riza’s eyes. There was a quiet moment, as a look of understanding between two women of equal strength and patience passed, before Riza spoke.

“And you want to protect that person. That good, gentle person underneath it all, that nobody but you gets to see.”

“To protect…” Winry gave it thought, before a wry smile formed, her very first conversation with the older woman coming to mind. “Are we talking about my Ed or your Roy?”

Riza laughed, taking a sip from her coffee mug before grinning coyly. “My commanding officer, you mean?”

The younger woman rolled her eyes, muttering into her mug with a good natured chuckle. “Yeah, whatever you want to call him.” She prodded a finger at the photo, raising an eyebrow. “He certainly wasn’t that _here_.”

“No,” Riza admitted, eyes falling to the photo with a poignant smile that she could not help, “just Mister Mustang.” She raised her gaze, Winry’s smug grin insatiable, and chuckled once more, a wicked grin curling at her lips as she took another swig of coffee. “So tell me, is that photo of you and Edward as children still taking pride of place on your shelf?”

It had the desired effect, and Winry flushed with colour, coughing into her mug. “That's  _entirely_ different!”

 


	7. #74 - We Can Share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble contains a sprinkling of adult themes, so proceed at your own danger.

She had never been a particularly great sleeper, but Riza found that the more recent weeks of sleep had been her worst perhaps ever, Ishval excluded.

It was past twilight when she tiptoed through to the bedroom, finally growing tired of the endless pages of reading, and her eyes fell over the bedsheets, lit by the streetlight that slipped through the crack in the blinds. Roy was asleep, hair splayed wildly across his face, chest bare and snoring peacefully. Her eyes fell to also snoring infant snuggled in to Roy’s side, his father’s arm draped across him protectively, peacefully dreaming. The warmth in her chest spread and she sighed, gentle love filling her as she sat at the edge of the mattress.

The movement was enough to waken Roy, who shifted, eyes cracking open, groaning before yawning widely. “What are you doing up? S'late…or early…or something…”

“I am just coming to bed.” She raised an eyebrow, nodding to the slumbering infant. “Checking on the men in my life first.”

“We are fine. Fell asleep during story time.” He stretched, and shifted his hand, gently patting the infant, who sighed peacefully at the touch, continuing to sleep with a sniffle. She watched him with a smile, before reaching over, gathering him in her arms and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, the baby cooing softly in his sleep. She laid him in the cot attached to the side of the bed, tucking a light blanket over his legs, thumb brushing the dark curls from his forehead.

“You’re putting him in the baby cage?” Roy almost pouted.

“It’s not a cage.” She tutted, before smirking. “It only has 3 sides. Besides, you’ll _spoil_ him. He’ll end up like his father, a cuddler.” Her tone was light, teasing, and he bit.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s certainly never been a problem for you.”

She raised an eyebrow wordlessly, before settling into the bed, his arm curling around her and drawing her in to him, her hand sliding up his chest to his chin, tilting his face down to meet hers, lips brushing against his, before he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You just don’t want to share the most important man in your life, I get it.” His lips curled in a smirk, as she tutted, glancing up to meet his gaze. “I know, I’m special.”

“Is that right?” The playful tone in her voice returned, and she pulled him to her, shifting as she slipped underneath him, his larger frame resting between her legs with practiced ease, his voice deep, gruff as he nipped at the skin below her ear with gentle lips.

“Want me to show you?”

His hands ran along her hips, and his name was a breathless moan as his lips found the sweet spot at the nape of her neck, her body curling to his touch instinctively. She ran a hand through his hair, fingers curling in the long, dark strands, nails tracing the arch of his shoulder and gliding down his back with the other hand, earning herself a grunt of approval. The lower his lips slipped, the further the stress of the day seemed away, and she closed her eyes as his fingers dipped beneath the smooth satin of her shorts, rough hands meeting her thighs with a delicious shiver.

Her eyes shot open at a soft sniffle from the crib next to them, before a piercing cry sounded through the room, both freezing. Roy stared at her, glancing at the now wailing infant, before looking back at her in disbelief, huffing indignantly. Riza sighed, moment entirely lost, and simply chuckled, a gentle hand pushing him up as a wicked grin found her lips.

“Don’t worry, it turns out I can share the most inportant man in my life after all…” She gently pushed him off, before tugging the covers back up around her, settling into the pillows with a sigh. “And it’s your turn with him, _General_.”


	8. #59 - Wow

He still wasn’t used to his new title. _Colonel._  The military medals clinked against his chest, and the dress uniform felt strangely loose; a rank that didn’t fit, he wondered.  
  
Of course, he wasn’t the only one with new titles to bear. The room was full of soldiers, no, _veterans_  now, all newly decorated and promoted. It made sense that she would be here; after all, she had earned every damned medal as much as he had. His eyes naturally found her as she entered the room, and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Wow.” It was a gasp, the ghost of the word escaping his lips as he watched her, effortlessly gliding across the floor. Dressed in a floor length scarlet gown, short blonde hair neatly pinned, with the hint of lipstick and dainty jewelry, she was _stunning._

 _She’s beautiful, isn’t she?_  The voice in his ear whispered, and he found himself nodding, transfixed by her. Gone was the soul shattered girl from Ishval, pale faced and terrified; in her place stood a strong, confident young woman, graceful and elegant. 

“Yeah…yeah, she is.”

He had sworn that conversation had stayed inside his head, but by the speed at which the voice gleefully whispered back, it had obviously not, and he quickly realised said voice was instead Maes Hughes himself, smugly muttering in his ear. 

“ You know, I’m starting to think you really sorta like her more than you’ll admit, _Colonel_.”

Doing his best to suppress the rising heat to his cheeks, he turned to his companion, plastering his best smile on, eyes murderous. “ Is that right, _Lieutenant Colonel_? I think you are sorely mistaken. Besides, she is an enlisted soldier now.”

“Love knows no rank, Roy-boy.” _That damned nickname._ The sing-song tease in his voice dropped, and a very knowing smile beaming across that smug face of his. “You don’t get to chose when it hits you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to debate, to _refute_  everything the bespectacled bastard was saying, but he spoke first, smug grin never faltering. “ _Lieutenant_ Hawkeye. What a pleasant surprise.”

And there she stood, eyes wide at the introduction, straightening up as a good soldier _would_ , staring at him as he spun around. There was silence as they eyed each other, both skirting around the traditional introductions, before Maes cut in, grinning as he backed off.

“I’ll leave you two to it.”  
  
Roy’s eyes desperately asked him not to abandon him in his time of need, but Hughes was gone, leaving him stood alone, her golden eyes still on him.  
  
“It suits you.” That was what he managed to fumble from his mouth, waving a hand, before instantly tripping over himself in an attempt to rectify the quickly deepening hole he was digging himself. “I meant your new rank. Not that your dress doesn’t.” 

She sighed, a patient smile forming on her face. “Good evening, Colonel.”

 


	9. #19 - Can I Hold Your Hand?

“Colonel Mustang. It is a pleasure to have you here.”

“A pleasure to be here.” She flashed a smile around the assembled dignitaries, before glancing over their shoulder, the glistening new building sparkling in the sunlight. A school for disadvantaged children, standing proudly amongst the rebuilt town.

“All your handiwork, ma’am.”

“With a lot of help.” It had been her pet project, her _baby,_ with much impassioned input from Winry _._ To see it in fruition was so very satisfying.

And a large crowd had turned out to see them. She had always said that Roy would make a popular leader, but she had never quite envisioned herself as having _this_  much of an attraction to the population. Although, from the large amount of women present as she exited the car, she suspected it was not just for her appearance they were waiting.

_“He’s just so cute!”_

_“I can’t believe we are going to get to see him!”  
_

_“I love him! Isn’t he just the best!”  
_

_“He looked just like the Fuhrer last time we saw him! I wonder how much he’s grown.”_

“Mama…” The star of the hour himself tugged at the hem of her dress, chewing on the corner of his lip, peeking around the edge of the car at the crowd, and cowering at another loud echo of screams. Riza glanced down, before bending down on her heels, the young boy staring anxiously at her. He did not need to say anything else, and his mother sighed gently, brushing the dark strands of hair out of large, worrisome golden eyes. She had never imagined herself a _mother_ ; her fate had never once suggested she deserved nor was destined for that path.   
  
Yet unexpected, but so deeply loved, the little soul she and Roy shared for the last 3 years had brought all kinds of light into areas of her life she was sure had been shrouded in darkness forever. She hadn’t been sure so she was prepared for _two_ Mustang men in her life, but Maes had turned out to be much easier to handle than his father had _ever_ been.   
  
It had also brought a whole new host of anxiety - not only a headstrong husband to protect, but now a son. At their mutual agreement, they had kept him away from his father’s limelight, with only glimpses in the streets of Central, and the occasional appearance on the balcony of the Presidential Suite on public holidays. Riza had often been spotted wearing him around the city, tucked close and safely away from the public’s eye under layers of soft fabric, and the list of potential babysitters was impossibly small (Black Hayate was their preferred option). But for all the worry of the evil in the world, there was also an adoring public, who were desperate for any sighting of the son of Amestris’ first democratic leader, and his elegant (Riza still found that one _alien_ ) wife, who spent her days championing women’s rights in the city, and building schools and orphanages in the East. They had eventually conceded that, alongside a normal life, he would have to make the odd public appearance (with either both or one of them close at hand) and the public lapped up every chance presented.

“They are very excited to see you, aren’t they?”   
  
“Yes…” He was deep in concentration, focused on the noise behind the car, before he looked back at her. “Can I hold your hand? I think I’m scared.”

“Of course, my love.” She took his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, Maes’ face remaining downcast. “You can stay in the car if you like. I know it’s very loud.”

He shook his head, lip chewing continuing, before he glanced back. “I want to say hello to them…I wouldn’t make a very good Fuhrer, mama.” He pouted, round face frowning in concentration, before he looked up at her again. “Papa doesn’t get scared.”

“Of course he does.” She paused, considering Roy’s various run-ins over the years, the battles, the close calls; all too drastic for storytelling at this moment in time. _Sometimes, your father needs me to hold his hand too_. She could easily imagine Roy’s face if he repeated that one at home. The young boy’s wide eyes remained on her, searching for reassurance, and she thought for a moment, before leaning in, whispering in his ear with a smile. “When it rains, he does.”

He let out a loud giggle, fear vanishing from his face as a small hand tapped her cheek. “Mama, you can’t let him hear you say that! That’s supposed to be a secret!”

“It can be _our_ secret.” She kissed the top of his head, and the grin that met her was a replica of his father’s famous, boyish one. “Shall we go and say hello now?”  
  
“Yeah. But mama…I’m still gonna hold your hand.”  
  
“That’s alright, my darling.”

 

(The amazing @thesilentwatcher drew a fantastic piece of art for this fic. You can see it [here](http://thesilentwatcher.tumblr.com/post/150945053491/inspired-by-ohsnapsnapsparksparks-fic-%D0%B7)!)


	10. #86 - You're Important Too

It was _just_  like him to insist that the doctor be summoned for Jean, and as Alphonse took off down the dark corridor in search of help, she wanted to chastise him for it. Wanted to tell him again to worry about himself, about the ugly, searing wounds on his side, about just how ashen his face was and how weak the limping pulse in his wrist really was. He fell silent as they waited, and she felt her stomach twisting itself into impossible knots.   
  
“ Colonel, please stay with me.”

No response. He was breathing, chest rising and falling, but that was not enough for her.  
  
“ Colonel, _sir_ , please. Can you hear me?

Still nothing. Panic licked at her, heart pounding. He was _too_  still, _too_ quiet. It was unnatural.

“ _Roy Mustang_ , don’t you dare.”

Dark eyes slid open, taking a moment to focus on her, before offering a slow grin. She felt relief numb her, shuffling to gently cradle his head in her lap, a tiny chuckle coming from him.  
  
“ You…haven’t called me Roy in a long time.”  
  
“ Needs must. _”_ To hell with being embarrassed about the slip in formality now. _He knew_ , and _she_ knew that was all that really mattered, particularly right now. His eyes still slipped back into unfocused, and she knew this was a well fought front. _He’s in danger. Big danger_.

“ I like it.  Seeing this softer side to you, Lieutenant.”

It drew a small huff from her, and he knew that as a sign of shared amusement with his teasing. She didn’t speak, tongue flicking over her lips anxiously, nimble fingers checking for a pulse against his wrist once more.

“ _Riza_. I’m alright.”

She did not reply nor did she meet his eyes, but simply hugged him closer against her at the sound of her name from his lips. Her breathing slipped to quiet sobs, face burying in his dark hair, and her fingers clung to him tightly.  He could not help but sigh, the only disappointment evident aimed at himself, voice quiet when he spoke.

“ Sorry…I’ve hurt you again, haven’t I Lieutenant? It’s okay. Stop worrying.” She scoffed at his words, pulling away and glancing briefly to the _awful_ wound on his side once more, nausea threatening as she did, and tears stung at the corner of her eyes, tracks already on her cheeks, bitterly uncontrollable.   
  
“ That…that is perhaps the stupidest thing you have ever said, sir.”


	11. #24 - Just Because

“What is the point of being a state alchemist, and the leader of the _damn_ country if I am reduced to fighting with bolts and screws to put this thing together…”

“Don’t dare think of using alchemy.” There was a disgruntled mumble at her words, Riza glancing over from her basket of white baby clothes and blankets, a neat pile of folded items next to her. “You should enjoy preparing for this baby, you know.”

“I do enjoy it.” He stuck out his tongue, before throwing down the screwdriver. “I’d enjoy it more if I could use alchemy to fix this…”

“You can’t use alchemy for everything.”

“Oh yeah?” He folded his arms, sitting back and looking smugly at her. “Name something alchemy can’t fix.”  
   
She licked her lips, before a soft grin danced across them. “Well, when my waters the waters break or-”

“Riza…” His face was paling quickly, and he waved a hand to silence her, evidently beat. “We will cross that bridge when we face it. Could we not…" 

She raised an eyebrow, grin growing at his obvious discomfort. ” _Mister_ Mustang, I didn’t know you were so squeamish. You should not have got yourself into this situation if you are _so_ scared of a little water.“

"I never said I was squeamish. And as I recall, _Missus_ Mustang, it was you who suggested the second bottle of wine.” He pulled a face, before leaning back on his hands. “ I just need to make sure everything is prepared. It was only a _request._.”

She chuckled, grin remaining. “Does that include preparing yourself?”

“Look, I’ll be calling the midwife at the first twinge of _anything_.” He grimaced, before shuddering. “I am not delivering this baby, we will not be any chances.”

She rolled her eyes, carefully folding a soft blanket over her arm as she stood up. “I think you are being over-dramatic. It doesn’t happen like that.”

“It might. Got to be alert and aware of anything.”

She paused, watching him for a moment, before suddenly gasping, head hanging, breath catching with a soft ‘oh’ as she laid a hand on her bump. Roy’s eyes instantly turned to her, panic in his voice as he spoke, Riza’s face in a dramatic grimace.

“What is it?! Is it the baby?! Do I need to call the midwife?!” Her shoulders were shaking, and he leapt to his feet, grabbing her, heart pounding…before realising she was laughing, tears at the corners of her eyes, a finger pointing to him.

“Your face…”

He stared, before rolling his eyes, throwing himself back to the floor, the blonde woman gasping for breath as she laughed. “Riza, for the love of…”

“Just making sure you are _alert and aware_ ” He snorted in disgust, turning back to the crib with a disgruntled mutter as she continued to laugh, sitting back down and gathering up a pile of the white baby grows, starting to fold again. Roy ignored her, instead taking out his frustration on the screwdriver, stabbing at the crib with a hiss. She slid over to him, receiving a raise of an eyebrow, before dangling a baby grow in front of him playfully, eyes sparkling, his scowl breaking, gentle flush colouring his cheeks as she spoke again, a shy grin curling around his lips.

“At least I know this baby has a very _alert and aware_ papa to look after him.”


	12. #22 - It's Not Heavy, I'm Stronger Than I Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt turned into a high-school AU most unexpectedly. I think this could end up getting a piece all of it's own...we will wait and see!

Riza enjoyed her quiet evenings, sat in the warmth of the large living room of her father’s home, curtains drawn, fire happily crackling away. She had grown used to her father’s absence, save for the odd noise from behind the study door, and there was something incredibly settling about the silence of the large house. She would sit at the oak table, curled in a warm jumper, and study in the glow of the fire, drinking in any and every book she could lay her hands on. 

Her phone vibrated against the table, catching her attention, and she lifted it to see a picture message from Rebecca, immediately laughing at the ridiculous face her best friend had graced her with, complete with puppy ears. She turned the camera on herself with a chuckle, finger flicking through the filters, grinning as she did.

A loud knock at the door broke the spell of her peace, causing her to pause in her picture taking. She waited, hoping whoever it was would give up in their quest to pester her. There was another knock, and she scowled at the door, before placing her phone down, sliding from her chair, crossing the hallway to pull it open, and immediately she felt her heart sink at the figure on her doorstep.

_“_ Is this the Hawkeye household?” She didn’t reply; _he knew the damn answer._ He waited expectantly, before throwing a hand out to her with a grin.

_“_ Roy Mustang. You’re Riza, right?” Her eyes roamed over him, bundled up against the cold of the night, and she _hated_  everything she saw, from the familiar dark hair, to stupid grin, to the scuffed boots on his feet. 

“I know exactly who you are.” The coolness in her voice made him flinch. “Why on _earth_  are you stood at my door, Roy Mustang?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Miss Hawkeye.” The smirk that appeared on his face was _infuriating_ , and she curled her fingers into a fist, anger whispering at her to wipe that smug look from him. “I am here to see your father.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes with a laugh. “I highly doubt that. My father is a world-acclaimed professor of chemistry, and a highly respected chemical engineer, and he does not have time for high school students who sleep through class and have no interest in the subject, and would rather spend their time partying and-”

“Riza, is that any way to treat a guest?” Her father’s voice caught her by surprise, and she spun around to see him at the end of the corridor, eyes wide, her father’s figure cloaked in his usual robes, dark eyes watching them. “Mister Mustang is here to study. Come, please forgive my daughter’s rudeness.”

She continued to stare at her father as Roy stepped past her into the house, turning to shoot her a grin as he followed the man down the hallway, before being stopped in his tracks, a large stack of books placed in his arms. “Basic reading for you. You can sit with Riza tonight, and study these. I expect you to have grasped the very basics of these for tomorrow. Otherwise, do not bother to return.” The study door was closed in his face, Roy blinking in surprise, and it was Riza’s turn to grin smugly as closed the door, and she sat back at her chair, picking up her book once more. 

“Is he always like that?”

“He doesn’t like time wasters.” He laughed at her short reply, stumbling over to the table with the large pile of books, Riza raising her eyebrow. “Do you need help with those?

“It’s not heavy, I’m stronger than I look.” She scoffed at his reply, eyes narrowing as he sat opposite her at the large table, spreading the books before him. “I see your opinion of me is high, Miss Hawkeye.”

“I don’t like time wasters either.” 

“I’m not a time waster.” His voice had a hint of firmness in it, and she watched him for a moment, his dark eyes on her. “I want to study chemistry, especially chemical engineering. That’s why I need to pass this class, and your father is-”

“All of my father’s students turn out to be disappoints, one way or another.” She scowled at him, before burying her head back into her book, choosing to ignore whatever his next words were in favour of making notes, sighing loudly to cover it. Roy Mustang was _not_  interfering in her quiet night, and she was sure as hell not being _friendly_  with him. 

 

* * *

 

“So he-”

“Yes.”

“And you-”

“ _Yes.”_

“You and  _Roy Mustang_ -”

“ Rebecca-”

“ _At your house!”_

_“Rebecca_!” She elbowed her as she hissed, fork prodded towards her face in warning. “Keep your damn voice down.”

“Well, I was just saying. This is a surprise.” The brunette’s smug grin was all too clear. “You react so quickly when I mention him, you know.”  
  
“Do I? I hadn’t noticed. Maybe it’s the irritation.” She refused to bite, before grinning back at the other girl. “Although I have noticed Jean Havoc staring at you every lunch break this week.”  
  
“Really?” Rebecca blinked, turning slightly pink, before she scoffed, waving a hand. “Don’t you change the subject on me, Riza Hawkeye.” She pointed a finger. “This is an excellent opportunity for you to snag him for yourself. So when are you taking him on a date?”

“Absolutely _never. Ever_. Just because you seem to think he is some kind of dreamy hunk- _”_

“Yeah, just me and the  _rest of the whole damn school.”_

“The rest of the school is welcome to him.” She huffed, folding her arms as she turned up her nose. “He’s an arrogant, cocky pig-”

“Ahem.”

“And if he spent _half_  as much time studying as he does flirting with anything with a pulse-”

“ _Ahem.”_

_“_ Then he wouldn’t need to interrupt my evenings with his insufferable,smug grin on that ugly face and _stupid questions from that thick head of his_ -”

“ _Riza.”_  Rebecca’s voice as a low hiss, and Riza stopped to stare, raising an eyebrow, her mouth opening to ask what exactly her problem was before a familiar voice spoke from behind her, and she froze.

“I’ll be sure to keep that all in mind, Miss Hawkeye.”

She felt her cheeks start to burn, stomach dropping and she peeked over her shoulder to see Roy stood about a foot away, tray in hand, wearing an unreadable look on his face, an eyebrow raised. She remained wordless as he walked off, heading in the direction of his usual lunchtime table, the familiar faces of his friend group jostling him as he approached, and she turned to Rebecca, who looked as though she had just witnessed either a wedding or a funeral.

“Well. That couldn’t have gone better.”

“I didn’t know he was there!” she cried, shooting Rebecca a glare, the other girl frowning.

“He actually looked like it bothered him. I think you’ve upset him.”  
  
“No, he didn’t, don’t be so-” Rebecca’s face made her fall silent, and she huffed, stabbing her fork into the last of her pasta, feeling guilt tug at her. “Well, it’s his own damn fault. Don’t think I’ll start feeling sorry for him now. I meant what I said.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, turning her gaze back to the phone in her hand, and Riza glanced over at the other table, before scowling back at her lunch, folding her arms. _Damn Roy Mustang._


End file.
